“No. Normal day.”
Caleb nodded.
Noah came into the break room ten minutes later, moving with the walking pole and carrying two empty mugs.
He had spent the first hour helping Owen test a rebuilt charging unit.
His gaze went immediately to the paper on my desk.
“It ran.”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“The reporting is fair.”
“That was not the question.”
“There’s a photograph of the van.”
His hand tightened around the pole.
“After?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the office.
“Can I see?”
“Of course.”
We sat together.
Caleb and Owen found reasons to work in the far bay.
Noah opened the paper.
His gaze went first to his portrait.
The scar did not seem to bother him.
“Got the sign.”
“You did.”
“The photographer knew what she was doing.”
“Yes.”
He turned to the wreck image.
His face emptied.
I placed my hand on the table between us, palm up.
Noah gave me his.
